Clear and pleasant. Time as usual. Quiet evening at home.

It was a fair and bright day today but I felt not quite well and rather uneasy at some symptoms of pain in my left side. At the Office I continued the burning system and managed to destroy most of the remaining papers of the last ten years. What a dreary sensation it is to look back over the minutiae of life, see accounts of this or that incident made by persons no longer living, and to ponder on the vanity of their existence.

Home to read Antigone. Devoted all my leisure after dinner to writing upon the currency in which I made much more satisfactory progress. It is remarkable how easily I can write when once warmed and how badly when I labour.